Spring is a soft drug with an expiration date that's always too close. It’s May 22. In other words: there’s barely a month left before summer turns everyone into an emotional mess sweating it out on trains without AC. After that comes September, people “getting back into shape, vomit-colored sweaters, and that immense national depression scented with leek soup. Leek soup being probably the closest thing humanity has ever invented to having sex with Gérard Larche, France's ultimate unsexy politician. So we have to live in the moment.
And living right now starts precisely with a pair of Patricia Blanchet. Because honestly, look at the Sunny Day. Look at the A-Ha. Look at the Nobakav. These aren’t shoes. They are blessings. Objects crafted to trigger high expectations, good decisions, and nights that end very, very late. The Sunny Day makes you want to to break up with someone via text from a terrace in Naples. The A-Ha looks like a woman who knows perfectly well she has a terrible idea in mind and and who still strides toward her sultry destiny. Nobakav is what happens when glamour suddenly decides to drink Spritzes with chaos.
The problem today is that everything pushes people to become dull. Productive. Optimized. Hydrated. A bunch of boring robots capable of talking for forty minutes about their REM sleep or their air fryer. No one wants to burn out anymore. No one wants to seduce anymore. People want to "manage their energy." What a sinister phrase. It sounds like advice given right before euthanasia. Meanwhile, spring wants the exact opposite. Spring wants useless flirting. Texts sent at 1:14 AM that you’ll slightly regret. Bodies starting to exist again. People kissing forever. Terraces full of catastrophically delicious decisions.
Spring is the last season where human beings still believe they can become Batman before ending up in beige cargo shorts comparing heat pump quotes. And that’s where I come in. Because let’s be honest: you don’t conquer your life by looking like a LinkedIn tutorial. You need to be, yourself, a whirlwind of sensuality. You need leather. Patent leather. A Patricia Blanchet is not a shoe. It’s a weapon of mass distraction with a reasonable heel. Which you are not. Reason is for monks, or for those who need to go to rehab. Let’s be clear. I say this with total ease because personally, I think I need an eternal rehab, considering how utterly unsuited I feel for this world. Parenthesis closed.
In a month, summer will start to dry everything up. Desires. Brains. Conversations. People will post their pathetic stories with glasses of rosé by pools full of pee. Then autumn will come, with its sad vegetables full of vitamins and hope for a brighter tomorrow. So, my dear sisters, go out, live, dance, scream, bite, rise up, protest, gather love, art, passion, energy, kisses, and hugs. Never get enough of whatever makes you feel good. Embrace it all, and now, turn off the internet, because you already know everything you need to know.
